Page 3 of Beautiful Chaos
Ronan racks his brain, helpless as the ghosts of his past escape their vault. He wonders whether he has anything of value to offer.
After a moment, he says, “We need to source where Blake learned about the legend of black-eyed children. Did he come upon it naturally, say, in a lit class? Or did he know about Edison?”
Jake’s mouth drops open, surprise evident in his eyes. “That is not common knowledge,” he says, a warning in his voice. “And this is an open line.”
Ronan slowly raises his brows.
“You’re right,” Jake concedes. “We need to figure out if that kid was genetically modified or if that trait is, uh…naturally occurring.”
Ro nods along. “I’d bet my next payout that it’s amodification.” He taps his lips. “Also, Blake seemed to like multiples of things. Multiple locations, multiple women to impregnate, multiple streams of ill-gotten gains. I’d be very surprised if this is his only lab site.” His hand tremors in Thane’s. “Or if that’s the only kid.”
“Oh, this is so bad,” Jake says, rubbing his eyes, yawning. “Sorry, been working this op since four-thirty this morning.”
“No worries, my friend,” Thane says, gripping Ronan’s shoulder as he addresses Jake. “Just remember, Blake was about as complex as a paperclip. You gotta ask yourself, ‘What would a vapid narcissist with a lot of money and a metric fuckton of overconfidence do?’ Nail that, and you’ve got a ninety percent chance of figuring out his moves.”
“Accurate,” Ronan says. “Also, that kid? Looks just like Blake.”
Memories are one thing, but this is somehow more horrifying. It’s the monster’s face, young and feral and covered in blood, staring back at him from the screen. Ronan had forgotten about those eyes. He doesn’t remember Blake’s eyes being that exact shade of blue or his hair being quite so light, but the soullessness is an exact match.
The fear he felt in that room, the fear he’d channeled into murder, floods back. A chill crawls up his spine, like a dead man’s feet walking across his soul.
“How much like Blake?” Jake asks, his eyes widening. “Like, are we saying he genetically manipulated his kid or his…clone?”
Jake practically vomits that last word.
“Blake was enough of an egomaniac to clone himself, so…double-check against the DNA we got from Blake’s body.” Ronan shudders. “The eyes and hair are a little different.”
The thought of a DNA dupe of Silas Blake walking around, breathing, existing in the world after Ronan personally ensuredhe was dead and buried, sits like an unexploded bomb in the conversation. Jake scrubs his hands through his hair.
From his expression, there’s more.
“Jake?” Thane asks. “What are you not telling us?”
He looks skyward, then says, “The team saw multiple dead animals, small ones like squirrels, rats, et cetera.” He pauses. “Guys, they were… It looked like they were tortured before they died.”
Ronan’s blood runs cold. He hates how this takes him right back to that fucked-up room, the teddy bear watching him, feeling Silas Blake’s eyes on him. And now that man’s mimic is out in the world, already repeating his father’s cruelty. Ronan turns to Thane, his eyes pleading with an unsaid ask.
Thane puts his arm around Ronan and kisses his temple before returning his attention to Jake. “I need you and the team on the ground to lock the fuck in, you hear me? If you lose track of that baby psycho and he comes after my family, I will become your biggest problem. Understood?”
Jake adjusts in his seat. “Loud and clear. I’ll call y’all as soon as I know anything else.”
“Thanks, Jake,” Ronan says, ending the call.
Turning to Thane, he asks, “What are they gonna do with that…thing?”
“They can’t give him over to the state.”
“Wait. No. Does this mean the Guardians are gonna…what?” Ronan asks, panic constricting his chest. “Raise him?”
Thane rubs Ronan’s shoulder. “Either that, or they’ll have to put him down.”
Well…fuck.
Thane continues, “Ant and Erik have been wanting to adopt a kid. They’ve made it known they are open to raising a child with complex trauma.”
Thane rubs the back of his head.Complex trauma, though, isn’t even close to whatever the fuck they just witnessed.
“Babe, this isn’t family violence. It’s fucking sci-fi.” Ronan shakes his head. “And raising a kid with trauma isn’t the same as raising a baby psychopath.”
